


ossified

by Anonymous



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Come Inflation, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Drugged Sex, Dual Genitalia, Dystopia, Fantastic Gender Roles, Fantastic Homophobia, Fantastic Sexism, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Institutionalized Sexual Assault, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Objectification, Public Sex, Spitroasting, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:55:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22109731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Goodsir endures a typical heat aboard with his required alpha, and this time First Mate Des Voeux happens to drop by.
Relationships: Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Harry D. S. Goodsir, Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Harry D. S. Goodsir/Stephen S. Stanley, Charles Frederick Des Voeux/Stephen S. Stanley, Harry D. S. Goodsir/Dr Stephen S. Stanley
Comments: 11
Kudos: 62
Collections: Anonymous





	ossified

Goodsir had hoped Dr. Stanley would not notice the symptoms of his heat and therefore insist upon subsequent official procedure. It was early yet, after all, the fever having not set in and the heat-scent light, the sexual pheromones only apparent at close range to the scenting glands at throat and armpit and groin, and the scent itself, though sweet, was more metallic than it was fishy.

He bathes and applies one of his stronger perfumes to mask any pheromone spikes before he leaves his bunk and reports to Stanley in sickbay for his shift.

Stanley's nostrils flare the moment he sees Goodsir enter the room, and he draws himself up, his imposing frame and angular features radiating displeasure. With a sinking in his gut Goodsir resigns himself to his lot, his cheeks burning at his attempted subterfuge having crumbled to dust the instant it was met by Stanley's scouring regard, and he lowers his chin and drops his gaze in submission.

Without a word Stanley fetches the tincture concocted to pacify an omega's troublesome nerves and prevent conception. Pregnancy conceived between men is such a rarity as to be almost unheard-of, as are pregnancies between women, but the Royal Navy insists on it being a risk not taken, just as it enforces strict adherence to customary recourse in dealing with breeding cycles. The blessed institution of marriage, legally reserved for heterosexual matches, is one thing. Same-sex mating sessions carried out to cure a heat are another.

Goodsir downs the shot glass of liquid and feels the alcohol in it burn all the way down his esophagus. From his stomach, a syrupy warmth begins to bleed throughout his body, weighing it down. Everything takes on a soft blur to the edges, the implacable wash of relaxation only muffling Goodsir's growing disgust and apprehension. His lowered head nods and he feels himself sway in place, and as he hears Stanley approach him, Goodsir opens eyes which he hadn't realized he'd shut.

Stanley, a civilized alpha and a man who would obviously prefer to be attending to more meaningful duties, merely gestures for Goodsir to strip, and watches impassively as this is obeyed. When Goodsir is naked and the clothes folded and set neatly away Stanley scruffs his neck with one hand, bends him over the nearest table, and with a grunt he forces his cock into Goodsir's heat-wet pussy.

The cock also burns somewhat as it sinks in, Goodsir being too tense and Stanley's size considerable even before full arousal, only the aid of the baculum permitting him penetration to begin with. Were it not for the heat and the drugs Goodsir may have tried to escape him.

Stanley's hands clamp tightly around Goodsir's hips and he pulls Goodsir back onto himself, driving deep inside, bone spearing into flesh. Goodsir's own cock is already plenty stiff, the bone of his own organ notwithstanding, and the ruthlessly quick rhythm at which Stanley pounds his pussy is making him harder and slicker, fluids starting to gush around Stanley's prick and down the insides of Goodsir's thighs, matting hair to skin.

The room is spinning even though Goodsir has his arms braced on the cold wooden tabletop. He lays his dizzy head down, stretching out his arms to grab either edge of the table. Ripples of pleasure crash into those of queasiness, the whole of him likewise shaken as Stanley fucks him, as Stanley shoves him back and forth with increasing zeal. The alpha drapes himself over Goodsir, Stanley's uniform rubbing against Goodsir's bare skin, Stanley's hot, meaty member splitting him open, rut-scent beginning to drift off Stanley to soothe his distressed bitch of the hour as his prick thickens.

“Sir. You have a moment?” asks Des Voeux, and Goodsir would have startled but is still pinned flat against the table by Stanley's greater mass, still impaled. Des Voeux is in the middle of the doorway, holding the curtain open. Other members of the crew are visible beyond as they attend to ship's tasks.

Stanley huffs against the back of Goodsir's neck and then straightens to leave Goodsir's back cold and bare. “Charles,” he says, hips grinding against Goodsir's arse, and his height and the bruising grip he maintains on the omega's hips lifts Goodsir to his toes. “What brings you here? Not more frostbite, I hope.”

The curtain falls half-shut behind Des Voeux as he moves to stand in front of the table. Goodsir tracks him blearily. By now the tincture has calmed his system so much that his hands no longer hold but merely curl limply around the table's edges. Stanley's cock twitches in him, enormous. With his feet only brushing the deck and his torso sagging down to the table Goodsir almost feels like he's hanging off of it.

“As if I'd be so foolish twice, Doctor. I'm here to visit,” says Des Voeux, casually reaching out to run his hand through Goodsir's hair. Sober, outside of a heat, he'd have despised Des Voeux's touch. Right now he despises it even more and yet pushes his head into Des Voeux's hand. “Sweet little thing on occasion, isn't he?”

Des Voeux has never before had a good opinion of Goodsir to share.

“He's useful,” Stanley concedes grudgingly, voice tight. Grinding his engorging prick into Goodsir's tender hole.

Des Voeux snickers as though Stanley had made a joke, a smile unpleasantly twisting his mouth. His touch moves from Goodsir's hair to his whiskered cheek, and then to Goodsir's mouth, where two of his fingers insert themselves between Goodsir's open teeth to press and stroke upon his tongue; they taste of inorganic grime. Goodsir, head lolled sideways, sees that Des Voeux is hard in his trousers, musky-sweet beta arousal wafting off him, and is most probably imagining his prick where his fingers are, and so Goodsir unavoidably imagines Des Voeux's prick in his mouth for himself. He moans, eyes fluttering, and sucks on the intruding digits to keep from doing so again.

The heightened libido of heat can only account for so much. Even drugged Goodsir would have expected to better hide his reactions, but the lust hits him in a continual battery of tidal swells, in time with Stanley's resumed thrusting, and Goodsir wonders if Stanley has again changed the dose of aphrodisiacs in the tincture without consulting him. All for Goodsir's health, of course. To make it easier on a frigid, high-strung omega.

“Stuffing him's the most useful thing he's for, I'd wager,” Des Voeux says, hooking his fingers into Goodsir's cheek and pulling him up by the corner of his mouth.

Stanley growls at Des Voeux for space, stretching his body over Goodsir's and pinning his hands with his. Goodsir's cunt squelches with slick as Stanley plunges in and out with abandon, battering Goodsir with a few more erratic thrusts before his knot catches. The alpha crushes Goodsir to the table, prick burying deep and pulsing as the knot at the root bulges to its breathtaking capacity, plugging Goodsir up and flooding him with cum.

Dour as Stanley naturally is, and as little as he always looks forwards to it, he mellows considerably once he's knotted. Panting, he pushes himself upright, supporting himself with his hands on Goodsir's waist. He shifts, so that his knot tugs slightly inside Goodsir's pussy and Goodsir winces, and Goodsir hears Stanley's spine pop before he settles with a sigh, semen pumping at a steady flow. His hands stroke Goodsir's waist, and the small of his back, and the back of Goodsir's neck, as gentle now as they had been bruising.

Goodsir recovers his own breath as he stares into Des Voeux's eyes and tries to recall when he'd moved to sit so far away. The man is studying him, and smiles when he sees Goodsir's consciousness swimming to the fore to look back. “A good milker. Best at that and bad at everything else; I know the type.”

His knees have given out so he truly is supported at that end more by the knot than anything, and though he is bloating with the steady influx of seed Goodsir has not yet come himself, and he shivers there, suspended on the cruel precipice, his cunt clenching around the fat pulse of Stanley's massive knot, the alpha's cock splitting him wide and pumping him full. At Des Voeux's words Goodsir shudders, and Stanley sighs again as Goodsir squeezes him, as he is milked.

“There's a great deal of room for... improvement,” says Stanley eventually, his deep voice once more smooth and urbane, “but Mr. Goodsir is not so far gone as all that. At the very least his eagerness to help can certainly never be faulted.”

Goodsir is sweating, burning, adrift from himself, the tincture having quickened his omega fever to a premature rage and the semen having not yet imbued him with its curative properties. He twitches weakly on the table like an animal on a butcher's block still awaiting the killing blow and whines softly. The desperate, creaky sound spilling from behind the back of his nose, where there is also the prickle of unshed tears.

It is now Stanley's hand petting his hair, and he shushes Goodsir quite as one would a dumb pet. “There, there, don't fuss. You're all right.”

“I don't suppose you'd spare the use of his mouth? For an officer off-duty.”

Goodsir's use is at his assigned alpha's discretion for the duration of his heat. He has no say, and Des Voeux, face slipping into unnerving, malevolent blankness, asks only Stanley. Goodsir doubts he could move his tongue to speak even were he asked, and he shuts his eyes, so he doesn't have to see Des Voeux or anything he'll do.

There is a long pause, and then Stanley says, “Provided you're brief about it.”

Des Voeux proceeds to take Goodsir's head in his hands and to fuck Goodsir's face to rapid completion. He pulls back, cum following his cock from Goodsir's throat to pool on his tongue in a thick, salty surge, and Des Voeux grips his midsize beta knot snugly in his fist as he paints Goodsir down, smearing the spitting tip of his cock along Goodsir's lips, the spunk and sputum dribbling down Goodsir's chin.

There's a sound, as though the two above him had kissed, tongue in mouth and with Des Voeux's prick skidding on Goodsir's face, but Goodsir is not sure of his own mind anymore.

Stanley sits down, his knot in Goodsir's pussy dragging Goodsir backwards off the table until he is sitting up in Stanley's lap, Stanley's arms wrapped around him and one of his hands finally, reluctantly, going to encircle Goodsir's cock. Goodsir, small and tired and drooling cum from two orifices, leans back against Stanley and orgasms, letting out a weak cry as his seed splatters his faintly distended belly. The heat makes the amount of leavings copious, the spurts wetting Stanley's hand with every stroke to make it a slick, tight, perfect vice around Goodsir's own burgeoning knot, tiny compared to that which is locked inside of himself and burgeoning him with its seed.

They settle in to wait out the remainder of the copulatory tie. Des Voeux gallantly passes Stanley's free hand his book upon request, and says some uninspired quip about doctors and orders and his own gratitude for both before he leaves.

**Author's Note:**

> Part two: [the betterment of health](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596955)  
> 


End file.
